


Patrick and Smith, Part 1

by reverseblackholeofwords, RubberSoles19



Series: Devil May Care [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, MatPat - Fandom, NateWantsToBattle - Fandom, Supernatural, Youtubers
Genre: FNaF Lore!, FNaF is kind of real in this universe?, Gen, Matthew/Steph, Nate and Matt are step-brothers, No ship!, Non-Graphic Violence, Well one ship, and it's, au!, even in fiction the boys can't escape fnaf, honestly OTP, non-graphic torture (it's magic?), nothing you wouldn't find in a PG-13 evening drama, supernatural!AU, surprise! the boys are in the supernatural universe more or less, you don't need to know the show to get the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reverseblackholeofwords/pseuds/reverseblackholeofwords, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubberSoles19/pseuds/RubberSoles19
Summary: In the spring of 1995, tragedy struck Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a local restaurant chain, claiming the lives of five children, and changing the lives of two young boys, Nathan Smith and Matthew Patrick, forever. Nearly 20 years later, the two step-brothers are brought back together through the reappearance of an old fiend, but this time, it's their own lives that are on the line.FNaF, Step-brothers, and Supernatural!AUStory co-written by Rubbersoles19 and ReverseBlackHoleofWords. Script by Rubbersoles19, Narrative by ReverseBlackHoleofWords. Cover art by Rubbersoles19.In which: Matthew goes missing while hunting down an old enemy, and Nathan - his beyond estranged step-brother - is roped into the situation to once again save the day.
Relationships: Matthew Patrick & Nathan Sharp, Matthew Patrick/Stephanie Patrick, Nathan Sharp & Jonathan Indovino, Nathan Sharp & Stephanie Patrick
Series: Devil May Care [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646251
Comments: 72
Kudos: 90





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! You're probably here from Tumblr, aren't you? Or are you just here because you want that good, good NateWantstoBattle and MatPat brotp content? You want a lengthy fic with lots of excitement, mystery, angst, and character development? You want a full series that will last 10+ episodes? You want a step-brothers AU??
> 
> Then you've come to the right place! Pull up a seat and enjoy. :)
> 
> NEWS: We have a blog now! Come check us out and try to keep up with all our whacky shenanigans: devil-may-care-series.tumblr.com

Medina, Ohio  
June 1998

Sunlight hitting one side of his dark hair, Nathan Smith woke as the rusted Dodge truck rolled over a pothole in the gravel and up the driveway of a prim and proper two-story farmhouse, all white with painted shutters and window boxes spilling over with petunias. Through a layer of grime covering the windshield, Nate could pick out a tire swing hanging from a large oak tree just around the side of the house, a bike parked against the garage wall, and a vegetable garden overflowing with ripe tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash. It was like something out of a dream, a weird, unicorn jumping over the rainbow dream.

The pick-up truck squealed to a stop just outside the garage where a squeaky-clean minivan was parked. John Smith cut the engine and shouldered the driver’s seat door open. His combat boots crunched in the gravel around the side of the truck to the bed where he pulled out a duffel bag full of clothes and a green army surplus bag.

“Come on, kid,” his gruff voice called out as he moved the green bag into a silver tool chest in the back of the truck and locked it tight, “You really going to sit in there all day? Get your stuff.”

Nate, barely nine years old but still small for his age, reacted like he’d stuck his finger in a socket and hopped out of the passenger’s side onto thick, green grass. His black Converse, practically falling off his feet, raced around to stand at his dad’s side, right where he belonged as he took his bag and slung it onto his thin shoulder. He was certain that neither he or his dad were supposed to be in a place this nice, though. Dingy motels, the tiny guest rooms of old friends or family, sure, but a magazine cover come to life? No way.

Then the screen door on the front porch swung open, and a woman with long blonde curls and an apron on over her jeans and simple white blouse leaned out to wave at them. “John!” she called and came down the front steps to meet them. Nate froze, half behind his father, when her moss green eyes turned on him. “And this must be Nathan! You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you! I bet you don’t even remember me.” She extended her hand. Her nails were short, painted pink, and Nate still couldn’t move.

John cleared his throat, and Nate’s spine straightened, his hand shooting forward like a shot. He gave her his best smile as the cicadas whirred and a gentle, summer wind blew.

“Hi,” he finally muttered and dropped his gaze back to his grass-stained shoes and the ankles of his jeans that were so long they had ripped in the back beneath his heels.

Mary hugged his dad, and Nate could smell her perfume - more flowers, he thought. Mostly he was just amazed, unable to imagine what kind of world a lady like this must live in. But, hey, if this was her house… And suddenly his eyes detected movement up on the porch again, someone behind the screen door peeked out at them. Mary followed his gaze and made a motion with her hand like she was calling someone out.

“Come on, Matthew! Come meet the infamous Smiths!” She said those last two words like a joke, but Nate had heard them before, spat like poison. He shivered a bit in the summer heat as a boy not much older than him pushed out from behind the door and bounded down the steps of the front porch in cargo shorts and a fresh t-shirt, his brown hair with a tint of his mother’s gold shining in the sun. “This is John,” Mary explained as one of her hands came to rest on Matthew’s shoulder, “and his son Nathan. They’re going to be staying with us now, remember?”

Matthew regarded both the Smiths with sharpened interest in his hazel eyes, but soon, he offered a wide grin that shone with silver braces. “I’m Matthew,” he said to John, and to Nate, “I’m eleven and a half. How old are you?”

To which Nathan quietly replied, “Nine,” watching his shoes again.

Mary gave her son’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Matty, why don’t you show Nathan around the house a little while John and I talk some things over? Put his things in your room, okay?”

“My room?” Matthew whined, but Mary shushed him.

At the thought of leaving his dad’s side, Nate stiffened again, but John gave him a gentle shove towards Matthew who tilted his head at Nate and frowned, a little unsure of these two intruders, “Okay.”

They climbed up the front porch steps together and into the house where the summer heat slipped away and smells from the kitchen made Nate’s stomach rumble. The carpet beneath his shoes sucked most of the noise away as Matt raced towards the staircase only to realize that Nate lagged behind, looking at everything. Photographs lined the walls of Matthew and Mary in a hundred different places, smiling and laughing. Little knick knacks adorned shelves stuffed with books. Fresh flowers sat in a glass vase full of water on the dining room table where a big window looked out onto the front lawn where John and Mary were talking in hushed tones.

“Um, are you okay?” Matthew took a step towards the scrawny, younger boy with the oversized hoodie drooping off one shoulder. “Hello?” Matt waved a hand in front of Nate’s eyes, but the kid frankly looked terrified as he watched John and Mary through the window. Watched as his dad kissed Mary, smiling at her, happy, and felt a realization drop heavy into the pit of his stomach.

They were staying here, and not just for a few days.

Nate dropped his bag on the floor and bolted for the backdoor that he saw past the staircase, through the kitchen. He launched himself down the back steps and dropped behind the big oak tree he noticed when they drove up. His head between his knees, dust kicked up from his sudden stop settled on his dark hair. He tugged at the hoodie around him, then at his hair. Nothing seemed to stop the feeling that he was being chased by something.

As he tried to calm his erratic breathing, Nate heard the backdoor open and close again. Footsteps through grass thudded closer until they froze, a few steps away, and the boy bristled, waiting for them to approach. Instead, the footstops turned away, and someone sank down onto the tire swing, the rope creaking under the sudden weight. 

After a moment, his curiosity got the better of him, and Nate peaked up over his folded arms, quickly spotting who had found him. Matthew kicked at the ground with the toes of his shoes in an attempt to spin himself. He glanced up at Nate, noting that Nate was watching him, a bewildered look on his face.

“My mom says I should be tall enough to push myself in this now, but it’s still hard.” His toes brushed the dry dirt patch beneath the swing as he made another attempt, but instead, he squawked in surprise when he suddenly slipped into the center hole of the tire, stuck kicking his feet helplessly. “I’m stuck!”

Nate glanced up at Matthew through scared, angry tears before hopping onto the tire and pulling Matt up out of the hole. He dropped down onto the swing beside Matthew with a note of pride in his blooming smile.

“Thanks!” Matt grinned, a hint of mischief in his hazel eyes, and Nate thought that maybe he’d been tricked somehow. And that maybe he didn’t mind so much. “I guess maybe it really does take two people, huh?”

“Nah,” Nate said, leaning back from Matt and letting his head hang out as they spun slowly. “It just took one person with ‘Alltha.’”

Matt screwed up his nose. “Alltha?”

“Alltha brains!” Nate shouted and giggled at his own joke as the other boy snorted.

Matt leaned towards Nate and poked him playfully until Nate wiggled his way back into a sitting position to look at him. “Will you push me?”

Nate scoffed. “You push _me_!”

Matt raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn’t sure what to think of the kid, as skinny and frightened as a stay kitten, but with undeniable spark. Matt always did want a little brother, though. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he challenged.

“Best two out of three!” Nate shouted back, and they set about deciding who would push who first as Mary watched from the window.

“John,” she whispered and motioned for him to come over. He peered out the window just as Nate hopped off the swing and spun Matt around just as fast as he could before hopping back on. They rode around and around, clinging to one another just to stay on, laughing so hard that John and Mary could hear them even inside.

“So,” John asked and pressed a kiss to Mary’s hair, “have you picked out a dress yet?”


	2. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is here! Technically this is chapter 1, and the last post was the Introduction, but AO3 didn't agree with that. Oh well.
> 
> Again, Reverse has posted some of this on her tumblr as a teaser, but only half. Enjoy the rest!
> 
> Because we are back-dating this story (it's not present time) I'll post a link in the chapter where you can find the right inspiration for the boys at their current ages. I'm a visual person, and besides, it's fun!
> 
> Updates will be Mondays and Fridays. We'll see you all here next week!

[[Nate](https://youtu.be/I9W_OKOtw0A)] [[Matt and Steph](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2nWlXPexP0&list=PLJq85sLoDiQ9FsmiZf4XSwQYFzQuNOFP3&index=5)] [[Jonathan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_7XzP1p9tw)]

Los Angeles, California  
13 Years Later

The red neon of the Spyder Bar’s lights glowed harshly in Matt’s peripheral as he stood outside the door, the bass of the music jamming inside resonating in his chest even from out here. He didn’t belong here, not even a little bit. After a few nervous taps on his thigh, he reached out and opened the door to slip inside.

In his letterman jacket and neat button-up he certainly stood apart from the throngs of leather-clad, inebriated people inside. A few of them leered at Matt as he made his way to the bar, but Matt kept his eyes on the stage where a band played old rock and roll hits. He did a double-take when he saw the lead singer.

Nathan Smith sang into a compressed mic that had to have the foundations of this hole-in-the-wall bar shaking, totally lost in the song as Matt had seen him a thousand times before, and he had to say, the kid had gotten even better. Matt was impressed. As he took a seat, Matt leaned towards the bartender. “Hey, do you know when the band will be finished?”

The bartender, a large, middle-aged man covered in tattoos, gave Matt an unimpressed once-over and cupped a hand to his ear. “Huh?”

A little louder, “I said, do you know when the band will be done?”

The guy leaned back, rolling his eyes as he shouted, “Not soon enough, if you ask me!” He lumbered away to the other end of the bar and left Matt alone with his thoughts - not that he could think much with the music blasting so loud.

He went back to watching Nate on stage, to watching all the people banging their heads along with the music. This was what Nate had always wanted ever since he was a kid and he first started belting out songs that came on the radio as they drove home after school. At barely 22, if Matt remembered Nate’s birthday right, which he always did, Nate looked healthy, if a little bit tired. 

When the music finally ended, Nate scanned the crowd with a grin on his bright cheeks like he owned the place, eating up even the scattered bits of applause. That was, until he saw Matthew.

That thousand-watt smile wavered, just quick enough for Matthew to notice, and the performer cleared his throat. “Yeah, thank you guys so much. Again, I’m Nathan Sharp. This is Reggie and Chuck, and we are Count Me In. Uh, be sure to tip your waiter, and hey, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Goodnight!” Then he spun around, locked his electric guitar in its case, jumped down from the stage, and bolted for the back door without another word, leaving his stunned band members in his wake.

Matt was stuck swimming through the crowd of flannel and sloshing glasses of beer as he chased after. “Nate! Nate!” But his brother didn’t stop. Matt watched the door swing open and slam closed before he was halfway across the room, and when he did stumble out into the dirty alley behind the bar, Nate was already gone.

Matt sprinted between the buildings, dodging heaps of trash, and burst out into the parking lot where he saw Nate fumbling with his keys to unlock his car, a dusty old beast that looked to Matt in a quick glance like a retro-aged Firebird of some kind. “Nate! Don’t go!”

Glancing over his shoulder at Matt’s approach, Nate chuckled to himself, brushing his fingers under his nose. “Well, well, he remembers my name.” He turned as Matt finally caught up with him. “I always did tell people that you were the smart one, after all.” One hand he shoved into his pocket, the other closed white-knuckle tight around his keys, his guitar case sitting obediently at his side.

Matt felt the barely contained rage rolling off his younger brother, and it sent a cold shiver down his spine. Every one of Nate’s muscles was tight and bristled, and Matt knew an upcoming explosion when he saw one.

He pressed on slowly but deliberately, hands raised slightly.

“Listen, I know that you’re upset, and you have every right to be.” Matt tried to catch his breath, tried not to let the way that Nate looked at him send him crawling away like a cockroach, cowering under the hatred in those dark, practically black eyes. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go at all. “So, just be upset, okay? Only hear me out…”

“Oh, ‘upset’? Is that what I am?” Nate grit his teeth as a muscle in his jaw twinged uncomfortably. He slung his keys around his finger once and then shoved them into his pocket. He was trying every technique he knew to keep himself under control, and Matt certainly appreciated it. “Yeah, I guess that’s one word for it.”

“I had to track you down!” Matt took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, and pressed on before he lost Nate’s attention for good: “Something happened, Nate, something that you would want to know about - that you _need_ to know about.”

Nate bobbed his head in acknowledgement, but it seemed like he wasn’t listening anymore. “Oh, okay, sure, but say, you want to know what I really want to know?”

Matt knew it was coming, but the blow Nate delivered to his jaw still threw him off his feet, sending him bouncing against the hood of the car behind him. Apparently, Nate had put on some muscle mass since Matt last saw him. Rubbing his split lip, Matt didn’t flinch as Nate towered over him, grabbing him and flipping him around to face the furious young man.

“How about you tell me why a genius like you can’t pick up a phone once in six years - six years! - and call his brother?”

Matt stammered, unsure of what to say when his brother looked like he might snap his neck at any moment, and really, there was nothing to say. No excuses that would make Nate feel better after all this time. Matt had screwed up, and he couldn’t deny it now.

“Yeah,” Nate nodded and opened the door of his car, tossing his guitar case inside and swinging himself in after it, “that’s what I thought you’d say.” The door slammed shut between them. The engine turned over a few times before roaring violently to life.

“Nate, Nate, wait! I’m sorry!” Matt pushed himself up, but Nate was already pulling out of the parking spot, the tires of his car kicking up gravel as he did. “Please, listen to me!”

But in the next moment, Nate was gone, nothing but tail lights shrinking down the desert road as Matt, defeated, muttered, “You’re in danger…” He slowly let his gaze wander back to the bar, the neon blurring through the angry mist in his eyes.

* * *

Inside, the bandmates - Reggie and Chuck, apparently - were still on stage packing up their equipment and their instruments. The crowd had thinned out a little, or people had gone to sit down rather than milling near the stage, and Matt watched the two men cautiously, as well as a younger guy who stood near the stage, talking with the manager.

Matt couldn’t be sure how much they knew, about Nate, about Matt, about any of it, but after a while, the one who had been playing backup guitar straightened up from packing one of the speakers and noticed Matt staring. A shadow of annoyance passed over the manager’s open, beard-lined face, and suddenly, Matt’s decision was made for him.

“Excuse me?” Matt approached the stage.

Reggie addressed him without so much as looking up from packing the equipment from their show. “Listen man, if Nate owes you money, we don’t have it.”

“What? No.” Matt could only shake his head and mutter, “No, I’m-”

Matt was interrupted as the younger guy he noticed earlier jogged to the stage and glanced back and forth between Matt and the band members with bright, green eyes. “Hey, problem here?”

“No problem,” Reggie said as he wrapped up one of the cords and stowed it in their box of supplies. “Just found someone else who wants their pound of Nate.”

“Or to pound Nate,” Chuck offered with a sharp laugh at his own joke.

As the other two exchanged lewd smirks, the younger guy shot them a glare. “Guys.”

Matt swallowed his confusion and swept his knuckles over his still-bleeding lip. “Actually, I’m his brother, Matthew Patrick?”

“Woah,” the younger guy said with one eyebrow raised as the other band members turned to look at Matt like they half expected him to start glowing. “I’m Jonathan Indovino, been working with Nate for a few years now. You’re the genius who got away, right?”

Matt was stunned. Of all the things his brother could have told his bandmates about him, “the genius who got away” wasn’t high on the list. Regardless, he was still on a mission, so he stepped closer, motioning with both hands slowly. “Look, he’s obviously not going to listen to me, but I need you to pass on a message. His life might depend on it.”

Reggie and Chuck shared an ignoble glance and burst into laughter, but Jonathan watched Matt closely, noticing the split lip and figuring that Matt had already had a run-in with Nate if he was coming to them. Suddenly, Chuck jumped down from the stage, slapped the lanky, well-dressed man on the shoulder, and sighed, “Look, Matt…”

“It’s Matthew to you,” he growled, and - smirking at Chuck’s surprise - Jonathan decided maybe he was related to Nate after all.

“Matthew,” Chuck corrected, irritation finally showing in his brown eyes. “I get it. You’re the perfect big brother, and Nate’s your family’s prodigal son. His dad was all,” Chuck changed his voice to mock John’s harsh, deep tones as he quoted, “ _‘If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you-’_ ”

Matt recoiled. “Wait, what?”

But Chuck continued, “Just don’t go dragging us into the middle of it, alright, pretty boy?” He patted Matt’s cheek, but Matt slapped his hand away, staring him down. “I like my face how it is without either of the Smiths rearranging it for me.” Chuck turned back to the speaker, loading it into its case as if he were done talking.

Matt tried to approach them again, but this time, Jonathan stepped between them, his hands raised as if to try to defuse the situation.

“Dragging you into the middle of it?” Matthew huffed, trying to hold what little patience he had left together and obviously failing. His whole body twitched. His mind raced. “If Nate doesn’t hear me out, he might die! Shouldn’t that mean something to you? Aren’t you his friends?”

This made Chuck snap up straight, and Reggie had the audacity to “ooh” like a third grader. Chuck cleared the distance between himself and Matthew in a few steps even as Jonathan tried to move to stop him. “Chuck - don’t!”

But there was no stopping the larger guitarist from getting in Matt’s face. “You haven’t spoken to your brother in six years, right? So allow me to clue you in before Nate takes your head off.”

He pressed a finger into Matt’s chest, knocking him back a step. “Nathan Smith, your darling baby brother, doesn’t have ‘friends,’ doesn’t want them, doesn’t keep them, and frankly, that’s fine with us.” Chuck spread his arms to either side. “So how about you stop bothering us with your little lovers quarrel, and let us go home, okay, pal?”

The conversation had officially ended. Chuck cast one last disgusted look over his shoulder as he jumped back up on the stage and hefted his guitar case before leading the other Reggie out the back door. Matt, with steam all but pouring out of his ears, turned the opposite way and elbowed through the room and back into the parking lot.

As Jonathan loaded his things into the storage space of the band’s RV, he watched Matthew get into his car, punch the steering wheel a few times, and then drive away. A note of guilt sank into his stomach. He had said he thought Nathan’s life could be on the line, and now Jonathan couldn’t help but wonder if it was true.


	3. Stephanie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! An all-brand-spanking-new chapter! None of this has been released to Tumblr, and the story is really picking up from here on out. So hold tight, cutie pies, because we are just getting started ;)  
> -Reverse

Los Angeles, California  
March, 2011  
One Week Later

The owner of the Brightside Motel knocked repeatedly on the door of room twenty-one while tugging a key from the pocket of his tracksuit and shouting, “Hey! Buddy! You’re three days overdue! If you don’t answer, I’m just gonna come in after you!”

An auburn-haired young woman, barely scratching five feet tall, stood alongside him and waited eagerly for him to open the door. He jingled his keys, listened for a few more moments as if that would magically make the occupant open the door, and then unlocked it. The young woman, Stephanie, tried to cut past him as soon as he’d cracked the door open, but he put out a pudgy arm to stop her.

She scowled up at him in barely-contained disgust, but that only earned her a smug grin in response. “That’ll be an extra thirty bucks,” he said, “for the physical distress.” She’d already paid for the three extra days Nathan Smith had been staying in the room, and now this. But she didn’t have time to argue, so she forked over another thirty dollars and slipped inside.

The room was revolting and not just because of the peeling wallpaper and the outdated carpeting. Dirty clothes laid strewn about in various, barely-managed piles that wreaked of old sweat, and dotting the open spaces between said piles were fast food bags emptied of their contents but still smelling of grease and onions. The only thing in the room that wasn’t covered in either trash or clothing was an electric guitar case reverently placed across the arms of a chair near the window. 

Steph looked around for any sign of where the occupant himself might be, but it was so dark that she could hardly see to avoid stepping on something. So she hopped carefully to the window and threw open the curtains. She shrieked when a face came level with her own from the other side of the glass.

Tracksuit man tapped the nonexistent watch on his wrist and mouthed the words, “Ten minutes,” before stalking back to the front office.

Stephanie heaved a sigh and turned back to the room. It appeared even filthier with the light of day shining on it, and she was exactly two seconds from giving up and storming out, convinced that she would never find this Nathan Whoever He Is, when the man himself walked out of the bathroom - steam following after him as he hummed happily - chipper, newly clean, and stark naked.

They screamed in unison.

* * *

  
Apparently, Nathan Smith could wolf down fries faster than anyone Steph had ever seen, and it was slowly making her sick. Seeking solace, she turned her gaze away from him and back to the old, box TV set hanging over the bar of this cramped diner where all four of the customers were wearing flannel and huddled over their own greasy, cheap meals. No one seemed happy to be there. Well, except for the man slouched across from her licking vinegar off his fingers.

He wasn’t exactly what she expected based on the stories she’d heard of Matt’s little brother: bold, brave, and clever. No, this guy was little more than a punk with more charisma than brain cells. If nothing else, though, he agreed to hear her out as long as she bought him brunch. Six dollars and thirteen cents worth of bacon-cheddar burger and french fries later, and she had earned herself an audience with the infamous Nathan Smith.

Once Nate had polished off the last of his fries, he took a long swig of his soda and leaned back with a contented belch that she could smell across the table.

Her nose wrinkled before she could stop it. “How are you and Matthew even related?”

“What?” Nate chuckled and grabbed a toothpick from the dispenser on the table. “You don’t see the family resemblance?”

Stephanie leaned forward, ignoring her own breakfast of a Caesar salad made from half-brown carrots, limp lettuce, and questionable ranch dressing. “So, Nathan-”“

It’s Nate,” he replied around the toothpick.

“Nate,” Steph snapped the single syllable through her teeth, “you said that you last saw Matthew…?”

Nate shrugged and switched the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Sometime last week, I think. He showed up at this bar that my band was performing at.”

“And?” Steph asked, needling for more details while trying to ignore how bored Nate looked by all of this.

“And I left before we could kiss and make up.” As if to keep himself entertained, Nate began to drum his fingers on the table, his knee bobbing. “Kind of ironic, don’tcha think?” he winked at her, and Steph had to physically cross her arms over her chest in order to avoid strangling him. “Ya know, because he left me to go to college and never looked back?”

Steph pressed her lips into a fine line, her glare bearing into him. “Yes, you mentioned that once or twice.”

“Surprised he hasn’t,” Nate’s gaze wandered over her in a way that let Stephanie know exactly what he thought of her. “It’s probably his greatest accomplishment, besides you, sweetheart. How long have you two been dating, anyway?”

She rolled her eyes and pressed back into the creaking leather bench. “I’m his _wife_ , you moron.”

Both of Nate’s thick, dark eyebrows raised above a sleazy grin, clearly impressed.

 _Don’t kill him, don’t kill him_ , Steph chanted inside her head while taking a deep breath. “Look, Nate, I’m not here to fight with you or listen to you moan and groan about what Matthew has or hasn’t done in the past. I’m here because he’s been missing for a week, and I need your help to find him.”

This declaration narrowed his gaze a little. This made him stop chewing on that stupid toothpick and look at her, really look at her, probably for the first time since they met. What he saw was nothing but pure desperation and sincerity in a little brunette bundle, a woman who was just spiteful and just determined enough to keep tracking him down until he agreed to help her.

He sighed, his shoulders dropping a little. “What do you know?”

Steph’s eyes brightened just a touch, though it was hard not to notice. She looked worn and exhausted in every sense of the word. “He’s been acting… weird lately, super distracted, almost _obsessed_ with something.”

“Sounds typical.” Nate’s eyes followed the toothpick he dropped onto his plate, but he was listening.“

"Sure, Matthew can get carried away sometimes, but I’ve never seen him like this before, not even in school. But the weirdest thing is that he refused to talk to me about… whatever it is. Then, last weekend, I got this from him.” Jumping to attention, Stephanie grabbed her purse and began to dig around, finally producing her phone. Fiddling with it for a second, she held it out over the table between them as a voicemail filled the air around them.

It was Matt, and Nate’s skin jumped just a little at the sound of his brother’s voice. 

“ _Stephanie! I-I think I found it. I think I know where he took them, and I’m - I’m sorry that I never told you. But I have to finish this before he hurts someone else. I have to. If something happens, if you don’t hear from me again, find Nate. He wouldn’t listen to me, but maybe he’ll listen to you. He has to. He could be my only chance of coming back alive... I love you, Stephanie_.” The message ended abruptly, and Stephanie quickly stashed her phone in her lap as if it was the only thread of her husband she had left. Eyes low, she tried to hide the moisture gathered in them behind her brown bangs.

It was silent for a moment, before Steph peaked up at Nate to judge his reaction. She was stunned as she watched the last of the devil-may-care attitude slip from his face, his posture, his everything, wavering just slightly before his mask fully got away from him. Clearing her throat, Steph sat forward, dashing some long hair behind her ear. “It took me so long to find you, I-”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Nate interrupted suddenly, voice monotone, eyes unfocused, large hands curling into fists on top of the table.

“You think I didn’t want to go there first instead of wasting time with Matthew’s long-lost brother?” Steph snapped, hands coiling in her lap, threatening to crush her phone.“

"Step-brother,” Nate corrected bitterly, shrugging when she huffed at him. “I don’t know what to tell you, lady. You think I know what he’s talking about any more than you do? You’re the new light of his life, what do you expect me to do?”

As he leaned back, Steph leaned forward, the tips of her brown hair framing her plate and threatening to fall into the ranch dressing. “I expect you to help, maybe.”

Nate scoffed loudly while rubbing at his jaw, lost in the pathetic comedy of it all. Dramatic irony, poetic justice, one big ice cream Sunday of chocolate-covered karma dumped right into his lap, and he was never one to ignore free treats. “What for? What exactly has Matt done for me lately that I should go sticking my neck out to clean up his mess?”

The venom in Steph’s next glare was enough to drive him to his drink for temporary solace. “How about that he’s your brother, huh?”“

"Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“So, you’re going to just let him die. Is that it?”

“Give me one good reason not to.”

Falling back into the seat all over again, Steph gave a strangled, frustrated groan, head shaking, mind racing. Matt made it sound like it was up to her and her alone to bring his estranged brother on board, as if she could just bat her eyes and he would fall in line. If not her, she figured at least the tremble in Matt’s voice as he spoke, that surely would have made him want to help. But somehow, he had become even more callous, more hard-headed than she could’ve ever anticipated. Bitterly, she snorted to herself, at least that much did remind her of Matthew. “He used to brag about you, you know.”

She scratched the side of her nose, folded her hands in her lap, and clenched them tight. “His superhero of a little brother who could do anything, who _would_ do anything to help others. Especially his big brother.”

Nate’s gaze was as cold as ice.

“So, what do I want you to do? Well, I want you to pull your head out of your own rear-end for starters, and then maybe once you come up for air, you can start caring about other people again like you used to.” She wrestled the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. “Or in the very least, care enough about your brother to try to save his life.” She set her jaw. “Sorry, ‘step-brother,’ I mean.”

Stephanie stood to go suddenly. Necks swivelling, some of the other people in the diner couldn’t help but stare, but she wasn’t quite finished yet, the fire behind her normally-gentle eyes not quite satisfied. “Matthew abandoned you when he went to school, I get that. I know how close you two were, and then suddenly, _poof_ , right? You probably even hate him for it, don’t you?”

Nate shifted his weight uncomfortably and pulled his arms up to cross over his chest. “Well, I’m not exactly happy about it.”

“Then why would you do the exact same thing to him when he needs you most?” Turning on her heel, Steph stalked for the door and let it slam shut behind her.

Every eye in the diner turned on Nate, and he bristled under their scrutiny, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a harsh line. “What? You people don’t get cable out here or something?”

Still judging, they slowly turned back to their food as Nate dropped his gaze to a faded, striped friendship bracelet on his wrist that he had started to subconsciously fiddle with. Movement out the window caught his gaze, and he turned to see Stephanie crossing the road across from the diner. She furiously wiped the tears from her face and fumbled to find her keys as she approached her car, parked on the curb. 

A few feet away, a young girl stood watching Stephanie, too. Her short dark hair was tangled, almost matted, the black and white-striped sleeves that emerged from her black t-shirt tattered and stained, and she stared for a long moment at Steph before her eyes turned and leveled with Nate’s. His blood instantly ran cold, his heart beat pounding in his ears. Tear stains, blue and oily, ran down her cheeks; scorn burned in those little eyes.

Nate tore his gaze away and looked back down at the bracelet on his wrist, wrapped tight around one finger and cutting off the circulation in his hand. He released it as his face flushed, thoughts raced in behind his eyes as they flickered back and forth.

“Well?” someone asked, and Nate’s whole body jumped as he looked up at the waitress who had seemingly materialized at his side. She frowned down at him, her pink lips quirked at one corner in obvious contempt, and she gestured at the remaining food on the table. “Are you going to pay for all this, or are you going to ditch me like you did your poor sister-in-law?”

Nate set his jaw and started digging for his wallet.

* * *

Outside, Steph finally unlocked her car. Once in the driver’s seat, she allowed herself ten seconds, ten seconds to totally lose it before she wiped her face, took a deep breath, and started the car. She would go to the police, explain the wild goose chase her husband sent her on the find his brother - _step-brother, whatever_ …

"Stephanie! Wait!”

Steph peered back over her shoulder at the diner, but when she didn’t see anyone, she drove off the slanted curb she’d parked her car on just as Nate rushed in front of her. A thud resounded through her vehicle, and she slammed on her breaks. “Oh my god!”

Jumping out of her car, Steph found Nate lying on his back on the pavement staring up at the blue sky, a little dazed but certainly no worse for wear. Not like he didn’t deserve it. “Are you crazy?” she screamed at him once she was certain he wasn’t seriously injured. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Or something.” Nate grinned and reached out for a hand-up, shrugging as he finally got his feet back under him and asked, “Stephanie, right? Mind if I call you Steph?”

“Uh, yeah, sure…” Maybe he had brain damage.

“Steph, you’re right. I hate my brother for what he did. Hell, I didn’t think I could ever forgive him, and I’m actually still not entirely sure that I can, but…” He scratched the back of his head, seemed at a loss for words. Steph really wanted to check him for a concussion.

"But?”

Nate blew out a long sigh that ruffled his thick, black bangs. “But, he’s my brother, you know? And now that I know he’s not dead or sucked into a wormhole, and he went and got himself a wife on top of all of that…” Nate shrugged. “I have to go pull him out of whatever pile of crap he’s landed himself in. Even if it’s just so I can kill him myself.”

Stephanie blinked quickly, wondering then if she was the one with the concussion. All it took to make him want to help her was to hit him with her car? If she had known that, she would’ve done it hours ago, gladly. “Wait, are you serious?”

“About the killing thing? No! I mean, well, maybe, sure… But we’ve got to save him first, right?” Another smile, well-meaning and maybe even sincere. Dang, Matthew wasn’t wrong after all, about his kid brother being a charmer when he wanted to be.

Steph nodded, mad at herself and at Nate. “Right.”

“Okay, but I have to know...” Nate studied her gaze, her posture, everything, not to intimidate her as before but to honestly sum her up. “Did Matt ever tell you about the hunting trips my dad took us on as kids?”

“Hunting?” Stephanie laughed at the mere thought. “Matthew won’t even kill a spider in our house. He can’t hunt!”

Nate raised both his eyebrows and bared his teeth in what could graciously be called a grin before he gave Steph a double thumbs-up. This was going to be more complicated than he previously thought. “Great! Just great. Um, second question, you got a spare room?”


	4. Investigating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Reverse and myself are both feeling particularly crummy today for various reasons, so we decided to post another chapter a day early. As a treat!
> 
> It's also a little longer than most chapters, simply because it was originally abysmally small, and wasn't even worth posting. But here you go, a little something extra!
> 
> \- Becca

Los Angeles, California  
March, 2011

Steph had never really intended on adopting this stray hobo, but she figured there was no going back once she said yes. Not when she pulled into the driveway of her and Matthew’s modest, suburban home, and Nate got out of his own Firebird parked on the curb, and gave a long, low whistle, draping his bag of clothes over one shoulder and his backpack rattling with supplies over the other. “Dang, big brother’s doing well for himself, I see.” He retrieved his guitar from the backseat of his car and waited for Steph to lead the way inside.

The interior was familiar, in a way, mirroring much of Mary’s eye for simple but homey decore, along with a few arts-and-craft projects lying around. Wedding pictures adorned one wall, and Nate couldn’t help but stop and stare at Matthew smiling, Matthew laughing, Matthew holding Stephanie and looking at her like she was everything in the whole world.

He didn’t want to touch anything. Once again, Nathan Smith did not belong.

“I’m guessing you’re Mrs. Pinterest around here?” He cocked his head to look at Steph who was countering with a wary look of her own.

“There’s a, uh, spare mattress somewhere that you could sleep on.” She glanced around, like she somehow felt lost in her own house. Gray bags hung under her eyes, Nate noticed as she turned on a few lamps around the small den.

Nate shifted the weight of his duffel on his shoulder and peered around at all the exits and windows he could see from where he stood. Old habits die hard. “You got a spare closet?”

Steph frowned at him, obviously confused.

“A spare closet that you don’t ever use? Probably in an empty room or something?”

She pointed down a hallway leading further into the house. “Yeah, in the office, but…”

“Great.” Nate started in the direction that she pointed out and searched around until he found the office in question. It was pretty bare, obviously not that well used, and sure enough, contained a nice-sized closet.

“It’s just for winter clothes and Christmas decorations and things.” Steph stood in the doorway watching with tired, half-concerned eyes as Nate pulled out winter coats and sweaters by the arm load and dumped them onto the bare desk. “You’re not going to find anything in there, Nate. We never use this room.”

Once he cleared out enough of the clothes, Nate pushed the rest aside and stepped back. “Which is exactly why he would hide it in here.” He motioned her forward wordlessly, eyes drinking in whatever the now empty closet held.

“Hide what?” Stephanie came to stand beside him and gasped when she saw what he’d found. On the back wall of the closet, Matthew had tacked and taped dozens of newspaper articles, pictures, and printouts with a web of red string connecting the dots of his thoughts. A few fat black words scrawled here and there in his shaky handwriting denoted details Matt had found important, with bright highlighter outlining or circling others. It was undeniably his work.

Steph covered her mouth. “This is what he’s been working on all this time? But - but what is it?”

“Matt said there was something I should know about. You said he had been obsessed lately, so I figured he must be back in the game.” Nate reached out to touch one of the pictures, an old building he recognized that sent chills down his spine and turned the growing pressure behind his eyes from a mild nuisance into a full blown migraine.

His eyes scanned the headlines of the articles: “Five Kids Vanish at Local Pizzeria - Bodies Not Found,” “Family Restaurant Burns Down,” and “Multiple Children Now Reported Missing,” among others with similar stories to tell, all surrounding one all-too-familiar chain of diners. He muttered a soft but heartfelt curse, snatched the most recent article off the wall, and read it out loud: “‘Haunted’ Restaurant Condemned - To Be Auctioned and Demolished.”

Nate leaned back against the door of the closet, his breath catching in his chest. “It’s Afton.”

* * *

When Matthew was young, a teenager just starting high school, he learned never to fear the dark. No, the dark could not hurt him, but the things in the dark? Those things were worthy of fear.

This room was dark, and it was cold. And he couldn’t move. Just when the silence, the deafening, all-consuming silence, threatened to drive him mad, the sound of metal on metal clanging and wrenching and tearing returned to remind him there were worse things than the dark. Worse things than the cold and the wet and the silence. He whimpered, half delirious as he tried again to pull himself free from the ropes tying him to this chair, to spit the gag from his mouth, but it was no use.

Something moved behind him. He could feel the air shift on his sweat-slick neck, could sense it even now, a billowing creature of impossibly dark robes that moved with a sourceless wind. Its skeletal hands reached up and pulled the cord hanging from the ceiling to illuminate a single, exposed lightbulb, and suddenly it was no longer a monster that loomed behind Matthew Patrick, but a man. A sickly pale and thin man, gaunt features cast in horrible angles as the light from the bulb swayed back and forth.

One look at this walking corpse and Matthew began to sob, fighting the ropes with renewed vigor and screaming through the tattered, stained cloth shoved into his mouth. But at first, the haunting man paid him no mind. He instead set about lighting a circle of short white candles, five in all, spread out across the scuffed and grime-streaked black and white checkered floor. Painted around the circle, around Matt, were sigils and runes of ancient, arcane origins, and while Matthew didn’t recognize them right away, he knew that they could not mean anything good.

Going to the table behind Matt, the man lit a few more candles and dropped a moldy, bloodstained night guard’s hat before an occult altar. He picked up a bowl, sprinkling in a strange powder, and with that done, he turned back to his hostage. Towering over the young man at an inhuman height, the shadows around him leaning in as if magnetized, wriggling like worms crawling out of the earth, William Afton smiled wickedly down at his latest victim in the making.

Matthew strained to look over his shoulder at him, to see what he was doing at the altar, but in a blink, Afton appeared in front of him, inches away, smelling of death and rot and sickness. Matt flinched back as one skeletal hand reached out to brush over his neck, his cheek, rustling his matted hair. The man’s dark gaze wandered over Matthew like he was a meal, gorging on the sight of Matt’s trembling arms and legs, his heaving chest, all the way to the party hat printed with the words “Let’s Eat!” affixed to his head.

“Yes,” the man said in a voice that rumbled and growled in his desiccated chest, “let’s eat!” Then he grinned from ear to ear, and his jaw unhinged like a snake’s, opening wide and still wider. Matthew’s body convulsed in fear as his screams brought dust trickling down from the ceiling overhead.

The single light bulb flickered out.

* * *

“Nate! Nate, wait!”

But Nate wasn’t listening. His eyes lingered somewhere far away as he barreled back through the hallway and grabbed his back bag of supplies that he left in the den. Stephanie stumbled into the hallway, reeling from what she had seen, from what she was realizing she didn’t know about her husband. “A-Afton? Who is Afton? And why was Matthew looking for him?”

“Sixteen years ago William Afton murdered a woman named Nora Smith, and ten years later he tried to kill her sixteen year old son, too.” Nate stalked to the kitchen, tore open his backpack, and dumped the contents onto the countertop as Stephanie appeared at his heels. Hunting knives, guns, charms, and cases of bullets - Nate sifted through them as Steph watched with wide eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah,” she gasped and stared in horror as Nate grabbed for a small box of dark, gleaming bullets and loaded a clip full of them with practised ease.

“The only reason that Afton didn’t kill me like he did Mom was because Matt swooped in and saved me. We thought we killed Afton that night, but apparently he got away. Again.” He loaded the clip into a pistol and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “Matt must’ve figured Afton’s back at his old haunting grounds before they tear it all down. And, like an idiot, he went in after him, alone.” With that, he started to cram some of the weapons and charms back into his bag.

Steph raised both hands to her head. “Wait, wait, just stop!”

And he did. Nate turned to look at her, blinked once, and shrugged, oblivious to any problem besides what his brother had managed to dig up. “What?”

She giggled softly, like it must have been a misunderstanding, like surely she heard him wrong and what she was about to say was completely stupid. “I’m sorry, but did you just say that you and Matthew tried to kill someone?”

Nate poked out his lip a bit and nodded. “Yeah, ‘tried’ being the key word there.”

That was not what she wanted to hear. “What?”

“He was feeding on kids!”

“Feeding?” Stephanie bit her bottom lip to hold back a sob. Her husband was crazy. His brother was crazy. She couldn’t handle this anymore. She wanted Matthew back so badly, just so she could hold him and maybe scream at him and make him explain everything to her. There was nothing they didn’t share.

Or so she thought.

“Stephanie.” Nate leaned forward and took her shoulders gently but firmly in his large hands. Her vision swam, and she felt like she might dissolve between his fingers. But somehow, he forced her eyes to meet his own dark ones, which glistened with something not provided by the overhead lights.

“Afton was _killing children_ , lots of them. Matt and I tried to stop him, but he got away. And now he has Matt.” Nate’s gaze wandered for a moment as he realized the weight of what he’d just said. “Now he has Matt, and I have to go save him, okay?” He released her, shrugged his bag onto his shoulder, and took one step back, still facing her as if she was the dangerous one in this circumstance. “Stay here, stay safe. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He turned and headed for the door then, leaving Stephanie staring at the place he once stood. He was halfway to his car by the time Steph snapped back to reality and ran to catch up with him. “Wait a minute!” She planted herself between him and the driver’s door, holding up her hands. “Just wait!”

“I’ve waited too long already, Steph. He needs me, and I’m going! Now!” Nate nudged her aside and unlocked the door, tossing his bag onto the passenger’s seat and getting in.

But Steph put up her hand again to stop him from closing the door on her. “So what, you’re just going to go charging in after that guy, completely blind, just like Matthew did?”

“One slight difference, sweetheart.” Nate pulled the gun from his waistband and presented it to her, arms crossed over the steering wheel casually “I’m bringing back-up.”

“Oh no.” Steph shook her head as he deposited the gun into the cup-holder. “You do not get to act like that thing makes you invincible!”

“Stephanie!” He was getting impatient.

“Nathan!” She wasn’t budging.

Nate glared up at her, a war going on behind his eyes as he weighed his options. Finally, he got up out of the driver’s seat and used every inch of difference in their heights to loom over her. If not for the fact Matthew was one inch taller than his brother, Steph might have backed up. Might have.

“What do you want me to do, huh? Just leave him out there in the hands of a serial killer, where he’s already been for a _week_ now? Is that why you came all that way to find me, Stephanie?”

The woman before him transformed into a toddler, stomping on the ground and throwing her hands around in defiance as she argued, “I don’t want anyone to run off and get hurt!”

Nate sighed, but he didn’t have time for this. _Matt_ didn’t have time for this. “Steph, Matt told you to get me, right? By name? In case, what--”

“In case he didn’t come back,” she muttered bitterly.

“Well, he didn’t come back. Matt knows why I’m the one person who can go after him. Not the police, not anybody else, _me_. And that’s what I’m doing. So, stop standing in my way.” He moved her back a step by a firm grip on both shoulders, took her hand off the car door, and angled his body to get back in. “I’ll bring him back, alright? I swear.”

But Stephanie’s tears turned to a sharp, icy glare, and rather than going back into the house like he had hoped she would, Nate watched her stomp around to the other side of his car and yank on the passenger side door handle. Nate cleared his throat, no longer interested in masking his own annoyance. “Hey, uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Going with you,” she snapped, not meeting his eyes.

Nate leaned on the roof and stared in bewilderment at her. “Um, no, no you’re not.”

She gave the handle another yank as if it might work this time by some miracle. “Um, yes, yes, I am. He’s my husband!”

“This is a serial killer we’re talking about!”

“Shh!”

Realizing he was shouting about serial killers in the middle of this suburban neighborhood, Nate clammed up and shot Stephanie another poisoned look that she threw right back at him. “Serial killer!” he repeated.

“Husband!” she snapped back with equal whispered fervor, and Nate knew that there was no way he would be leaving without her. She would just jump onto his hood and ride it the whole way if she had to. But something over Stephanie’s shoulder caught his eye, the little girl, that same disapproving look on her tear-stained face. Steph noticed his stare and tried to see what he saw. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?” She turned back to him when he didn’t answer. “Nate?”

Finally, he snapped out of his trance, rubbing the side of his head and muttering, “Nothing, nothing, just… damnit, get in.” He dropped back into the driver’s seat, shoved his bag to the back, and unlocked the door for Steph to get in.

The floor around her feet, the backseat, and probably more of the car that she couldn’t see, was covered in trash, clothes, and old, tattered notebooks. She tried not to overtly judge him for the mess, but Nate was too preoccupied with trying to get the car to start to notice. After the engine turned over twice without starting, Steph cleared her throat.

“We could take mine.”

“Not a chance. We’ve got to get across state lines by nightfall.” With his brow wrinkled, he held his mouth a certain way, and tried again.

Steph raised an eyebrow at him. “And this hunk of junk can do that?”

On the fourth try, the engine roared to life, and Nate whooped victoriously as he patted the dash like the car was a kitten. Then he cranked up the radio, buckled his seatbelt, and gave Stephanie a snide smirk before sliding on his sunglasses and tearing out of the driveway.


	5. On Location

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative titles for this chapter:  
> "Stephanie Patrick is Our Queen", "Nate Has Yet Another Crisis(TM)", "Things I'll Probably Tell my Therapist About One Day"  
> or, my personal favorite, "Breaking and Entering: Nathan Smith is a Dick to Doors."  
> Feel free to add your own XD  
> -Reverse

Los Angeles, California  
March, 2011

Hours later, as the sun dropped to meet the horizon, the old Firebird growled its way down the highway through the orange painted desert. Sunglasses hiding his eyes and his thoughts, Nate hummed along to the music despite the tension in his expression, and Stephanie kept her gaze fixed out the window, drowning in her own thoughts as they sped along. The desert air was hot and dry, and she was grateful the T-top roof she had noticed earlier was currently closed up.

In the distance, Steph caught sight of a string of old buildings all huddled together among the yawning landscape. They were old, rundown, and not a thing among them moved as the car rolled up and stopped in front of one - an old diner - with a new, chain link fence erected around the perimeter.

Nate parked his car and cut the engine as the last of the sun’s rays hit the diner. He stared up at the old corpse of a building through the dust-covered windshield. Goosebumps rose on his arms even in the heat of the afternoon as he flexed his jaw and wondered what made this location different from others, what had caught Matt's attention. Mostly, Nate wondered why he was there at all. He'd planned on never darkening the door of another Fazbear location for as long as he lived.

Certainly not under these circumstances.

Steph peered through her own window at the half-decayed edifice. It made her skin crawl just to look at it, but imagining Matthew trapped somewhere inside, it made her shiver even in the late afternoon heat. Her whole body jumped when Nate shouldered open his door and got out. He retrieved his bag from the back as Stephanie followed and waited between the car and the chain-link gate. She took the time to shake out her legs a bit as Nate dug through the bag.

“Here.” He handed her a hunting knife that was practically as long as her forearm.

“Like I’ll know what to do with it,” she mumbled, but took it anyway.

Nate shrugged, looking so much more casual than he felt at the moment. “At least you’ll have it in case you need it. That’s step one.” He snapped his fingers to get her attention. “But hey, you stay behind me, alright? Don’t get any ideas about being a hero just because I let you come along.”

Stephanie nodded. She had no issues with letting Nate lead the way into this haunted house. He approached the fence, pulled a lockpick from his pocket, and went to work on the padlock that held the fence closed. Within seconds, the padlock hit the dirt. Nate swung open the gate, and Steph ducked under his arm. She watched as Nate climbed the steps up to the front door like a condemned man marching to the gallows, and she wondered, among other things, exactly what kind of haunted memories came attached to this place.

* * *

The interior of Freddy’s was even more revolting than the outside. The checkered floors were littered with all manner of dirt and grime while the walls were streaked with stains of unknown origins. Streamers and deflated party balloons hung limp from the rotting, moldy ceiling tiles that sagged with the weight of the rain that had managed to leak through over the years. Nate pulled a flashlight from his bag and swept its beam over the entryway and both hallways that led off to either side of them.

Nothing moved but the dust through the air and the cockroaches that skittered along the floors and walls. Stephanie pulled the neck of her t-shirt up over her mouth and took Nate’s elbow from behind. “Matthew?”

No reply came aside from her own, faint echo.

Nate gave his head a single, weary shake. “He won’t hear you.”

She looked up at him, but in the oppressive darkness of this hallway, she could barely make out the line of his jaw among the shadows. “What? Why not?”

“Because if he’s here,” Nate muttered, “he’ll be in the secret backroom near the security office. Assuming it hasn’t collapsed since the place closed.”

“S-secret backroom?” Stephanie squeaked, staying as close to Nate as she possibly could without actually riding on his back. “How do you know all this?”

“I told you.” Nate swallowed. “Matt and I hunted this guy down before.”

The hallway opened up into the large, main party room. Nate took a slow, aching breath as he surveyed it all, the tables scattered around, the posters peeling off the walls, the carousel in the corner with the animal eyes watching them as they walked past. The stage was empty, the curtains ripped and weighed down by all the dust and cobwebs they collected over the years.

But Nate blinked, and it all changed. He blinked, and the stage lights came on, the room filled with music, and the faded colors became bright and blinding and garish once again. Three massive animatronics - a bear, a rabbit, and a chicken - moved in clipped, mechanical motions on the wooden stage under the glow of several spotlights, and Nate could hear the children laughing, singing, screaming just behind him.

Nate stumbled back a step, and the vision faded just as quickly as it had come. He rubbed his eyes and looked around again. But it was really gone, all gone. Stephanie squeezed his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“‘m fine,” he muttered. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Come on.” Nate pressed on with Stephanie still clinging to him, until he found a door leading to the back of the restaurant, an “Employees Only” sign nailed in place. Nate set his jaw, forced the door open, and staggered into the hallway beyond. It was all too familiar, but he was close, so close. He jogged the rest of the way to the security office as his heart began to drum out a quick pace in his ears.

One push at the door let him know that this wasn’t going to be easy, so he handed off the flashlight to Steph and put all his weight into one swift kick. The door burst open with a swirl of dust, the musk of rot spilling over them in a fresh wave. Stephanie gagged and waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, that’s disgusting!”

“Yeah, almost like it’s been sealed all this time…” Nate ignored the stench and pushed his way inside. It was just how he remembered it - apparently the chain made a priority of the uniformity of its locations, lucky for Nate and Steph, at least - but it was also devoid of his brother.

The old dented filing cabinets, the corkboard of children’s drawings, the desk covered in filth and yellow papers - it all rushed back to him, the sounds of computers humming and the telltale phone ringing and children screaming in the distance - but Nate didn’t come here for the merry little trip down memory lane. He shook the illusions from his head and looked back towards Stephanie as the monitor on the old security desk flickered to life with the face of a little girl framed in the screen.

Ignoring it, Nate slid past Stephanie and followed the hallway to the very end where he pressed his hands to the bare wall. “It should be here somewhere, if I could just…” His hands smoothed over the surface until he found the chink in the drywall that he was searching for. “Got it.”

Stephanie shone the light on the wall. “What are you looking for exactly?”

He stood back. “Afton used the chain as a front, of course. Followed a pattern of kidnapping and killing five kids, and he was so good at it, most places never found the bodies. Only once or twice, he got sloppy, and this must be one of those places if it got the attention of the media. Anyway, after the first round of killings were discovered, every restaurant in the chain sealed up their old employee closets. They’re not on the security cameras, so… it was the perfect place to hide the bodies, you know. But the older buildings, like this one, still have them, you just have to be a little bit creative about getting inside…” Nate knocked on the wall and smiled when he heard the echo behind it.

He readied himself for another kick just as Steph cried out, “Are you really sure about--?” But it was too late. He broke through the drywall chunk by chunk, pulling it aside until he could see through into the other room. Another cloud of toxic air rolled out of the hole, and even Nate gagged at the smell.

Rotting flesh, it tended to linger.

But he continued to pull away bits and pieces of the wall until he could fit through if he sucked in and ducked his head. Then he reached a hand out to Stephanie. “The flashlight,” and when she gave it to him, he drew his gun, squeezed inside, and shone the light around, level with the barrel of his pistol. Steph peered in after him and gasped.

Empty. Aside from a metal shelving unit where some of the old springlock suits were once kept and a couple of the old, empty animatronic heads scattered around on the floor, there was nothing. No Afton, no kids, and no Matthew.

Stephanie wandered over to one of the heads and nudged it with the toe of her sneaker. “What are these things?”

Nate stared at the head, unable to make sense of what he saw. Or rather, what he did not see. “It’s… an animatronic head. Freddy’s was sort of known for them. But, I don’t get it...” He squeezed back through the hole, not bothering to wait for Stephanie to follow him as he charged back to the main room.

With one more glance over the storage room, Stephanie ducked back through the hole and retreated back down the hall to the main party room where her apparently deranged brother-in-law had begun searching for something, though she couldn’t guess what. “Nate?”

“They’re not here,” he muttered, still searching, the beam of the flashlight flickering from place to place.

Steph curled her fingers in her hair. “What isn’t here? This place was already being stripped to be sold off, right? Maybe whatever you’re looking for--”

“No, it’s not the suits,” Nate growled, “it’s the…” He looked back at Steph without finishing his thought, but it wasn’t really her he was looking at. It was the little girl standing behind her. It was the little girl with the tear stains on her face and the dark stains on her clothes and that look in her eyes that ate at Nate’s heart while it was still beating in his chest.

“Nate?” Stephanie watched his eyes snap back to her, back to the restaurant. “Where is my husband?”

Blinking, he looked around again, and Steph felt that familiar urge to strangle him. He wasn’t paying attention. He was somehow still distracted. Even there in that awful place, he couldn’t even look her in the eyes for more than five seconds.

“Where is my husband, Nate? You said he was here, going all rogue vigilante to kill the serial killer. But besides this room and the front doors, this place looks like it hasn’t been touched in a decade!” She wrung her hands together, gestured around at the room they stood in, and dared him not to take her seriously. “You tell me where my husband is in all of this!”

Nate didn’t reply, but his eyes wandered again in search of something or someone, Steph didn’t know. Like he still expected someone else to be in the restaurant with them.

“Nathan!” she screamed, and the whole building screamed back at her.

“I don’t know!” he shouted back. “I don’t know! Maybe we missed something. Maybe we didn’t-- maybe I didn’t…” Suddenly Nate took Steph by the shoulders again and steered her towards the front door, muttering. “We’re leaving,” out into the night air that was cool and crisp and breathable.

* * *

He pressed her to run to the fence, all the way to the car as he shook his head. “None of this is right, none of it. Afton should be here. Matt should be here, but you’re right, there’s nothing in there. No one. That back room is where it should’ve happened. Afton always did it back there. That’s the pattern, but they're not there and…” He reached the car and stopped short, leaning both elbows against it and clutching his head between his hands.

Steph watched him as she tried to take cool, calming breaths. Finally, after what felt like an hour, she asked, “Can you find Matthew or not?”

He looked up at her. His eyes were red, like he’d shut them too tightly, and he had a bewildered crinkle in his eyebrows, as if he had forgotten she was even there. “What?”

“It’s a simple question.” She folded her arms over her chest. Even covered in a layer of dust and grime, Nate could see why Matt liked her. She had some kind of strength to her. “Can you find Matthew or not? Because Matthew said that you were the only person capable of bringing him back alive, and all you’ve done so far is feed me a lot of half-answers and waste my time and run around in - in circles! You barely even looked at his research! You saw one name and immediately assumed that you knew what you were doing after Matt spent who knows how long obsessing over it!”

“About a month, if I had to guess,” he muttered, still rubbing at his temples.

“Why? Why would you even guess that?” Stephanie pulled at her hair again, and a cloud of dust floated down around her as it fell from her scalp and the folds of her clothes. “You haven’t spoken to Matthew in six years! Which is exactly when all this happened, I guess, but you still think that you can show up and instantly figure out what’s going on based on nothing? A single name?”

He kept massaging his head, still not listening to her, and Steph was done with not being listened to. “He is my husband, Nate! He is the person that I love most in this world, and I want him back! I want him found, I want him safe, I want him where I can take care of him. I want this whole nightmare to be over already!”

Nate dropped his hands onto the roof of his car and looked at her, an overwhelming despair in his eyes as he watched her try to pull herself back together. But again, over her shoulder, he saw the girl, only then there was a tilt to her head, almost arrogant.

Steph choked, “I never should have listened to that stupid voicemail.” She turned and paced a few yards away from him, swinging her arms to either side.

One more glance at the little girl and Nate’s brow creased in realization, an idea kicking him. He chased after Steph, lightly tapping her shoulder. “Wait, Stephanie, the voicemail, do you still have it?”

“Of course I have it!” She dug in her pocket for her phone when Nate motioned for it, and with a huff, she played it again for him.

“ _Stephanie! I - I think I found it. I think I know where he took them…_ ”

“There!” Nate drummed his fingers over his thigh as he chewed the corner of his lip in thought. “Matt was never at this location, and Afton wasn’t either. ‘Where he took them…’ there has to be some other location that Afton would’ve had access to. I’m such an idiot!” He smacked his palm against his forehead and turned to Stephanie.

“Well, now what?” She pushed the phone towards him as if he could somehow make sense of the rest of the message just by proximity. “It’s not like Matthew told us where he was.”

“No, but he left us a trail.” Nate tapped his bottom lip and wiggled the fingers of his other hand at Steph’s phone. “Let me hear it again.”

Annoyance in every line of her face, Stephanie played the message again from the beginning, “ _Stephanie! I - I think I found it. I think I know where he took them. I'm - I'm sorry I never told you, but I have to_ -”

“Stop!” Nate shouted, making Steph jump a little. “Go back?”

She replayed the last few seconds over and over again for him, but she couldn’t hear what he heard. Nate leaned closer, so Stephanie leaned closer too until finally, Nate grinned at her.

“Hear that?”

And she could hear it, only because he so adamantly pointed it out, a strange, almost metallic sound whirring in the background, nearly hidden beneath the layer of Matthew’s voice. “What is that? Some equipment or something?”

Nate rubbed at his head again, squinting. “I don’t know, it almost sounds like…” He glanced back at the little girl standing near the front door of the restaurant again, and she cocked her head to the other side, like a dare, like two little kids daring each other to jump into the deep end of the pool. Nate frowned. “I think that might be the clue to what we need, and I know someone who can help us figure it out.”

Stephanie recoiled and shot him a warning glare. She was tired of his wild goose chases, tired of all the mystery, but Nate held up his hands, shoulders curled in, as if to ease her nerves.

“I know, I'm sorry. I messed up. I wasn't thinking like Matt, I was thinking like - okay, I wasn't thinking at all. But I have a lead now. I have an idea about what to do. Steph, I'll get him back, just like I said I would. I promise. I just need a little more time.”

As the last of the daylight slipped away behind her, Stephanie rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. “Well, I can’t exactly walk home from here, can I?”

Just a hint of triumph showing in the angle of his eyebrows, Nate raced back to the car as she waved him away, and getting back into the drivers seat, he once more sweet talked the engine into starting. “We’re not exactly heading home just yet,” he warned Stephanie as she opened her door, “I’ve got another stop to make. I need to pick up some things, and there’s this guy who might help us… might.”

Stephanie slowly and painfully deposited herself back into the passenger’s seat with a groan. Her whole body was sore from the constant stress, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she slept. “Fine,” she grumbled, rolling over in the seat to face the door rather than Nate, and shut her eyes, “just wake me up when we get there.”

And Nate nodded, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he got back onto the highway again. “You got it.” The car slipped along the thin strip of pavement, a glow of tail lights and nothing more by the time the young girl’s small form flickered into being along the yellow lines behind them.

Slowly she turned her head to stare up at the transparent vision of William Afton, who stood crouched over Matthew, still bound and gagged in a chair, the lopsided party hat fixed on his head. Afton’s face changed as the girl scowled at him with a hatred too old and too deep for such a young child. He loomed closer and closer to Matthew, and in the distance, through dust-heavy winds, a scream pierced the air, garbled by static and the white noise of whirring machinery.

Tears, thick with coagulated blood and oil, nearly blue in the moonlight, dripped down the girl’s face as she watched. Matthew Patrick did not have much time left. And as she turned her face towards the shrinking tail lights with all the stiffness of a robot, a single, small sob escaped from her chest before she flickered once and disappeared.


	6. Don't Go Away Angry, Just Go Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to posting this chapter since we started uploads. It's definitely my favorite, and Reverse worked her magic to make is so much better than my script could have (like she always does).
> 
> \- RubberSoles
> 
> NEWS: We have a blog now! Come check us out and try to keep up with all our whacky shenanigans: devil-may-care-series.tumblr.com

Los Angeles, California  
March, 2011

Morning light had only just dawned over the abandoned Wal-Mart as Jonathan Indovino stood in the doorway of his run-down RV with his second cup of coffee listing lazily in his fingers. His attention was on the fast approaching 1982 Pontiac Firebird roaring towards him, which, in his experience, meant only trouble. The old muscle car skidded to a halt a few yards from the RV in the broken-up, weed-choked parking lot, and Nathan Smith, shades over his eyes and a confident smirk on his naturally pouting mouth, climbed out and lumbered towards his old bandmate.

“'Sup snotwad.” He knocked his sunglasses down his nose an inch to give Jonathan a wink as, behind him, a small lady with long, brown hair rolled out of her side of the Firebird, looking to Nate even crankier than she did the day before, not that he could blame her.

Jonathan stepped down from the doorway of the RV and held up one hand. “Hey, I don’t think this is a good-”

But Nathan had already side-stepped him, headed for the door. Once inside, Chuck and Reggie jumped to their feet at the mere sight of him. Nate jerked his head up, smiled a flirtatious “Ladies,” as he strode to Chuck’s bunk and tore back the curtains, searching for something.

“Hey, that’s my bunk!” Chuck protested loudly, obnoxiously like a toddler forced to share his snacks.

Staring him in the eyes, Nate dropped his blankets and pillows onto the floor. “Oh, was it?”

Chuck’s face rapidly grew redder than a stop sign. “Man, I’m going to kill you!” But being roughly four inches shorter than the man ransacking his bunk, Chuck merely glared.

Reggie, a little braver but no smarter, grabbed at Nate’s shoulder in an attempt to pull him away from the bunk, but Nate just shrugged him off and went for the mattress next. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Smith?” Reggie made another attempt at grabbing Nate, which the other man deftly dodged, shoving him into Chuck.

Jonathan appeared in the doorway again, depositing his half-empty coffee cup onto one of the few flat surfaces not covered in fast food wrappers. “Alright, alright! Geez, and here I thought you boys were actually adults!” He turned to Nate with his arms spread in obvious dismay. “What the heck are you doing here?”

Nate motioned vaguely to the bunk. “Just getting my stuff.”

“Oh, of course!” Reggie scoffed, still ready to throw a punch.

“Sure, and I guess you get to decide what stuff is yours, right?” Chuck grabbed the front of Nate’s shirt and earned himself another shove backwards.

“Yeah, because I was the one who kept raiding the stashes so often that we had to start keeping inventory after every gig, now wasn’t I?” Nate gave Chuck a mocking sympathetic smile, like he was being the bigger man here. “So, why don’t you just cool your jets?”

Jonathan sighed, feeling the pressure begin to build behind his eyes. “Nate…”

“What, he can trash talk me, but I can’t return the favor?” The ex-lead singer shifted his gaze back to Chuck. “And who exactly saved your scrawny rear-end in Amarillo, huh?”

Reggie chuckled dryly and shook his head. “Here we go again!”

“Hey,” Nate raised his hands then, cocking his head to the side, “I didn’t hear you complaining when I gave you point in Flagstaff.”

“And we just love having those old memories shoved down our throats every time you piss us off!” Jonathan pointed one accusing finger at Nate’s chest, his whole body shaking with anger because couldn’t Nate manage not to be a prick for at least five minutes?

Chuck, on the other hand, just wouldn’t quit egging him on. “Right, because we can’t do anything without the incredible Nathan Smith there to be the hero!”

Nate clicked his tongue, shot him a finger-gun, and winked. “Now, you’re getting it.”

“Enough!”

All four band members turned to stare at the five foot nothing, whirl of raging fury standing just inside the RV as Stephanie Patrick placed her hands on her hips and shot them a look that could kill. “I just spent all night long in a car with no shocks to speak off in order to get here because _that idiot_ ,” she pointed at Nate who had the decency to smile sheepishly, “is apparently the last hope my missing husband has of coming home after a week of being at the hands of, what was it, _an actual serial killer?_ I do _not_ know what we're doing here. I am _tired_. I am _hungry_. I have not had a shower in over thirty-six hours, and I am _so over_ dealing with the suffocating amounts of toxic masculinity wafting out of this RV on the scent of gym socks and body odor! So if you don’t mind, I would like to go back to finding and rescuing the love of my life, _please!_ ”

Nate grinned, honestly impressed. “Huh.”

Jonathan blinked. “Well then.”

Jonathan, Chuck, and Reggie turned to Nate who gestured at Stephanie, clearing his throat. “Guys, Stephanie Patrick, my-” he paused as if the thought had never actually occurred to him before that exact moment, “sister-in-law. Steph, the idiots.” He put his hand to his mouth as if to shield his next words, “Don’t bother learning their names, we’ll be out of here by the time they can collectively count to ten.”

“Shut up,” Reggie snapped.

Chuck charged Nate one last time. “Of all the-”

“Guys!” Jonathan caught Chuck by the collar and hauled him towards the door before a real fight started. “Go cool off that thick head of yours!” Then to Reggie, kicking him out after Chuck with a literal kick in the rear, “Keep a better handle on your girlfriend, would you?” Finally, he dug his keys out of his pocket and tossed them at Reggie’s head. “Unlock my trunk and look for anything that might be Nate’s, alright?”

He got nothing more than a bunch of lip in return, and Jonathan tore at his long, dark hair with desperate fingers. “Please, guys. Just… do it.” The two of them turned away, shooting a pair of glares over their shoulder at Nate - who wiggled his fingers in a cocky wave - let the door slam behind them, and stalked towards Jonathan’s car, still grumbling and complaining.

Nate, leaning one shoulder against the side of one of the bunks, shivered his body quickly. “Ah, Jonny, I get all tingly when you take control like that.”

“Really? You just enjoy making my life difficult, don’t you?” Jonathan reached forward, snatching the sunglasses of Nate’s face before shoving them in his back pocket.

Nate frowned. “I missed your beautiful eyes, too, bud…”

“Cut the crap, Nate. What’s going on?” Jonathan tilted his head to the side, trying to read Nate’s eyes, but that only made the other turn back to the bunk and start searching again.

“I’m here for my stuff.” He started on Reggie’s bunk then, if only to mess with him.

Jonathan shifted his weight from foot to foot. Just because he didn’t let Chuck or Reggie throw a punch at Nate didn’t mean that he wasn’t willing to do it himself. “No, I mean - with everything.”

“Everything? Well, Jonathan, when a Mommy and a Daddy love each other very much -”

“Smith!”

“Indovino!”

Jonathan thumped the back of Nate’s neck, and Nate scowled up at him in betrayal. Then, at Jonathan’s insistent glare, Nate dropped the facade, if only enough for his own annoyance to leak through. “I messed up, okay? When Matt came to the bar, he was trying to tell me something, and I didn't listen, so he went and did this whole ‘solo hero’ bit, and now no one knows where he is.”

Stephanie moved her hands from her hips and started scrubbing anxiously at her scalp again, shooting an annoyed glare at the back of Nate’s head. “Well, we know one place where he’s not, now don’t we, Nate?”

Nate scoffed up at Steph, then at Jonathan. They were double-teaming on him, and they didn’t even know each other. That couldn’t be considered fair. “I am trying my best here!”

“Oh God, I hope not,” Stephanie muttered, body sagging like her skeleton was too tired to hold it upright.

Jonathan leaned one hand against the wall. “And the, uh, serial killer…?”

Nate watched from the corner of his eye as Stephanie took a seat in a chair somewhere behind them, and in Jonathan’s direction, he gave his head a swift shake. Jonathan’s eyebrows raised, gesturing towards Steph while Nate only shrugged his shoulders in reply. Stepping closer, Jonathan grabbed at Nate’s shirt with one hand and pointed at Stephanie once again with the other, mouthing, “Did you tell her?”

Mouthing back, Nate frowned, “No!”

Throwing his hands into the air, Jonathan turned away, unable to believe any of this. Not only was Nate carpooling with his sister-in-law, but he’d brought her along without even telling her what she was getting herself into. Nate thumped his shoulder, turning Jonathan to himself, and gestured again, as if asking what he was supposed to do. Jonathan threw his hands around again, nailing Nate with a glare, who replied in turn, equally as exasperated.

“Are you two still in the middle of your little mating dance, or can we go home now?” Stephanie asked while trying very hard not to sound like a spoiled brat, but to be honest, that was just what she felt like at the moment. And she wasn’t unjustified either.

Nate jutted a hand out towards Stephanie, all “See what I have to deal with?” before kneeling to open the lid of the trunk hidden underneath the bunks. Jonathan rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and knelt down as well, helping Nate search.

Nate couldn’t help his small smirk. “Sure thing, Steph, just give me a minute to collect my stuff.”

Inside the trunk laid a huge stash of weapons much like the ones from Nate’s backpack, and Jonathan started handing Nate whatever he thought they might need for going after Afton. Consecrated iron, plenty of rocksalt, some of the more powerful charms, just in case. Nate, stunned, took them all and loaded them into his bag, wanting to say “Aw, Johnny, you do care,” but just barely managed to hold it in.

Jonathan threw another glance over his shoulder at Stephanie, and seeing that she was practically asleep where she sat, he leaned closer to Nate to whisper, “How much longer do you think you can keep her in the dark about all this?”

Nate only shrugged, avoided eye contact like usual, and whispered back, “With any luck? Until I shoot Afton full of iron and Matt can tell her himself. But with her track record so far, she'll have figured it out long before then.”

“Well,” Jonathan said, smacking a hand on Nate’s shoulder and causing him to flinch, “subtlety was never your strong suit.”

Nate tried his best to look offended, he really did, but Jonathan just rolled his eyes before shooting one last glance towards Steph. Between her fire when she stormed in, her uncanny ability to wrangle Nate, and keep her sanity while knowing her husband was in the hands of a serial killer, Jonathan couldn’t deny that he admired her. “So, Mr. Big Brother really went and got himself domesticated, didn’t he?”

“Oh please,” Nate’s voice caught in his throat at the thought, “Matthew was never one of us. He wanted out from the moment he found out.”

“Yeah, don’t we all? But not everyone can manage it.” Jonathan sounded almost wistful.

Nate couldn’t believe his ears. “Well, if anyone was going to do it-”

“It’d be the one with emotional capacity to feel love?” Jonathan shrugged once again as Nate glared at him, looking far too innocent for someone Nate knew to be anything but. “Think it was worth it? Him leaving, I mean. A wife, a degree, probably even got a mortgage.”

Quiet, Nate stared at Stephanie for a long time and thought of those pictures he saw of the two of them together. “There are worse fates. And clearly he didn't completely escape, he still went after Afton didn't he?”

Once they finished gathering up everything that Nate could possibly use, and then some, they stood, and Jonathan stretched his arms over his head. “Well, this one is personal.”

Nate was too busy zipping up all the pouches of his backpack and adjusting it on his shoulders to notice the way that Jonathan watched him as he spoke, “Really? I mean, Afton always was ‘the one that got away.’”

Jonathan slid the mattress back into place and started tossing the blankets and pillows back onto it. “Sure, but did you ever think that maybe it’s because Afton tried to suck the soul out of his little brother like a slurpee? I know I don’t really have a family, but I’ve lost enough people to know that you don’t just let something like that go.” He was still searching, still trying to read Nate’s expression only to find it totally hidden from him.

Nate, meanwhile, stared over Jonathan’s shoulder, oblivious to the inspection.

“I’m just saying, man.”

Finally, Nate seemed to snap out of it and glanced back to Jonathan’s face again. He’d almost forgotten what they were talking about. “Hm? Oh, yeah. You’ve, uh, you’ve still got that old mixer program, right? The one you fine-tuned for…” Nate made a vague gesture with his hands, and Jonathan’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, oh, yeah. The,” he glanced towards Steph only to find she still hadn’t stirred, “the EVP, yeah? Why?”

“Not sure exactly.” Nate turned back to Steph, too. “But we’ve got this voicemail from Matt, and there’s something going on in the background. Only I can’t quite figure out what it is. Think you could-?” He noticed that Jonathan wasn’t looking at him anymore, and something in his chest tightened. “What is it? You still have the program, right?”

Jonathan tugged on one ear, still avoiding Nate’s eyes. “Oh, I do.”

“Then what,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem?”

“Nate... you walked out on us, man. Just packed up without a goodbye, any words, nothing. You didn't even stay long enough to get the rest of your stuff.” Jonathan rubbed the side of his face, down over his mouth, along his jaw, anything to keep from looking up at Nate.

And Nate knew. He knew what that meant to Jonathan, what someone walking out on him felt like. “Jonathan, I…”

“You, what? You’re sorry?” He laughed, not because it was funny, but because it wasn’t. It was quite the opposite. “You’re expecting me to say ‘thank you’? Send you a card? What exactly?”

“You- no! I never said…” Nate twisted his bracelet again, his voice rising in pitch, and he saw Stephanie look up from her chair, blinking. “Look, if you don’t want to help then fine! I don’t need you. Forget I even asked.” He shoved his way past Jonathan and towards the door. He had what he came for, and that was all he needed. It didn’t matter what Jonathan thought.

But Nate couldn’t lie to Jonathan. They’d worked together for too long, and by now, Jonathan could read Nate like a book. “You're full of yourself, you know that? You're scared, Nate, scared that you messed up again, but instead of dealing with it, you're running, like you always do. Running around, acting like we're the bad guys when you've done nothing but use us for months now!”

Nate stopped, frozen in place. He rubbed at his eyes as pain started like a low vibration in the front of his skull.

Jonathan didn’t seem to notice. "We're not your enemies here, man, but you refuse to see that!”

Steph was fully awake now, and she somehow woke up even madder than she was when she fell asleep - then again, cat-napping in an RV chair would do that to anybody. But Nate just held up a hand to stop her from jumping to his defense. “No, he’s right.” He turned his head to look at Jonathan out of the corner of his eye, head angled down, ready to leave. “Sure it had nothing to do with my piss-poor excuse of a dad.”

But this was the wrong thing to say; it was the old excuse he fell back on at every opportunity as far as Jonathan was concerned, and today he was not in the mood for the pity party. “Boo-hoo, Nate, we've all got rough pasts! When are you going to stop wallowing in it and start either owning up to it, or moving on? Don't you ever want to be something other than the man your dad made you?”

Nate brought his hands up to either side of his head and clutched at the places where it felt like his skull might just crack in two. Something was wrong, though, with the way that his hair felt, like it was wet, and as he lowered his hands to look at them, his eyes widened.

Stephanie finally seemed to catch the fear in his eyes. “Nate?”

Blood. His hands were covered in blood. So much blood that it dripped slowly down his wrists and over the braided bracelet and staining his sleeves. It ran from his head down his face and neck, his shoulders and the front of his chest, like he’d bathed in it. The thick, sticky sensation, the smell of it, even the warmth, was familiar yet foreign. He could barely call his body his own as he tripped backwards a step, a shrill scream like bending metal erupting somewhere behind him. He twisted around to find the source while flinching at every external stimulus. Every light was too much, every noise an assault on his brain.

He felt trapped, pulled apart, and broken all at once.

Anger melting into concern, Jonathan edged closer. “Nate? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Nate’s eyes wandered up to Jonathan’s face only to peer past him, to a little child with golden blonde hair who sat slumped against the wall, her eyes staring up at him emptily. As the noises grew in volume, Nate pressed his hands against his ears and doubled over with a strangled cry, but even as he tried to breathe, tried to calm himself, he could feel what little sense he had left slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Nate!” Steph reached towards him with gentle hands in an attempt to soothe, but Nate only flinched away so hard he hit the nearest wall and slid down to the floor.

“Don’t touch me!” he screamed and covered his head with his arms.

Jonathan grabbed Steph and pulled her away from Nate as he began to rock himself back and forth, transformed into a little kid whose nightmares walked around during the day. The look in Jonathan’s eyes, Steph noticed, was one of fear. He was afraid of Nate, of what he might do in that moment, and when she turned back to her brother-in-law, she could see that fear reflected in his eyes as well. Whatever he was seeing, it was like a jackhammer to every wall he hid behind.

He chewed at his nails and stared at the child, at her twisted and broken limbs and the unnatural tilt to her little blonde head, and he begged silently for it to go away. Finally, he let himself shut his eyes, to block out what he was seeing as the screaming in his head began to vibrate in every inch of his body. Until it was so loud, there was nothing else at all but the noise.

And as quickly as it came, the visions left.

Nate’s arms dropped to his side, exhaustion in every line of his scowling face as he tried to force breath after breath in and out of his lungs. His eyes remained wide, those of a child. Slowly, his sanity returning, Nate straightened up, ran a hand over his face, folded his sweaty hair from his eyes, and looked back to Steph and Jonathan who were still watching him. They looked like they were ready to run at any moment.

“Show’s over, folks,” he muttered, voice hollow. “I’m going to guess you didn’t hear any of that, right?”

Steph, her voice slightly strangled from watching Nate come unraveled so easily, choked out, “‘Hear’? What are you-?”“No,” Jonathan answered instead, “we didn’t hear anything.”

Nate only nodded in reply. He didn’t seem surprised. Then again, Steph really couldn’t read much about his expression at the moment. He was even more distant than usual, like the event had totally emptied him, and it took him a while to stand up again, teetering as he pulled his backpack onto one shoulder and clung tight to the strap with shaking hands.

“Show him the - the message, while I,” Nate gestured vaguely towards the outside, “while I see what they found in the car.” He slipped out before either Steph or Jonathan could stop him, the door slamming shut behind him.


	7. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter for this first part of our story, and boy, is it a doozy. So strap in because it only gets crazier from here!  
> Also keep an eye out. Since I'm stuck at home another week and things in the world are looking pretty sideways, we might put out some more content this week than usual just to give you guys a treat. Thanks again for all of your support!  
> -Reverse

Los Angeles, California  
March, 2011

“What just-” Steph asked, but Jonathan shook his head.

“I don’t know what he sees, but I know none of it is pretty.” He rubbed his forehead and glanced out the window worriedly at Nate. He stood between Chuck and Reggie, careful not to brush against either of them as he searched through Jonathan’s trunk. He hoped those two had picked up on Nate’s current state and hadn’t tried to start a fight, but Jonathan was doubtful his friend would be that lucky. “And afterwards, his head is pretty scrambled, leaves him antsy.” Jonathan looked back at Steph who raised an eyebrow at him, and Jonathan shrugged. “Well, more so than usual.”

Stephanie took a deep breath, trying to think this through. “Okay, you said he ‘sees.’ So, these are actual hallucinations he’s dealing with?”

Jonathan laughed, dry and humorless. “You haven’t noticed?”

Steph shrugged. “I just thought he was a little spacey sometimes. Is it something like schizophrenia? Doesn’t he have some kind of medication to help with that?”

Another dry laugh, and Jonathan shook his head. “Um, have you met Nate? Doctors? Therapists? They aren’t really his thing.”

It figured, of course, that Nate wouldn’t be willing to get within fifty feet of a doctor, let alone some kind of therapist who would want to get inside his head. Stephanie hugged herself at the memory of his eyes, though, when he was seeing whatever it was. “Does it - do they hurt him?”

Jonathan frowned then. “When I first met him, I would have said no. Heck, I would have never guessed he even had them. But I’ve known Nate for a couple years now, and I’ve never seen them this bad, not until a month ago.” Jonathan grabbed his coffee cup and looked into it, but the coffee had long gone cold. “I swear, sometimes it’s like he’s in an entirely different place and time altogether.” He gestured vaguely to where Nate was a few moments ago. “What you saw, just now? That’s mild for him. He’s woken up screaming more times than I could count, and sometimes I swear he turns himself… blue.”

“Blue?” Stephanie could feel her heart racing by then. What could be worse than what she’d just seen?

“It’s like he chokes himself out. Screaming too much, or - I don’t know what goes on in there, but it’s scary. And it’s strong. Strong enough to hurt him and too strong for us to do anything to help.” In the last part, Stephanie recognized a hint of guilt. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to watch a friend go through something like that without any chance of pulling him out of it. And from the look on Jonathan’s face, he had tried.

Wishing for a change in the subject, Jonathan cleared his throat awkwardly and reached a hand towards her, and Stephanie unlocked her phone and gave it to him. He crossed the RV to a small table where he opened a laptop and connected the phone to it. “What am I looking for? He mentioned a voicemail?”

Stephanie nodded, but something was still bugging her. “So, he just left, and… you let him?”

“You try stopping Nate from doing something once he’s set his mind on it.” Jonathan worked away at the laptop and avoided eye-contact. “Besides, he’s not exactly a joy to be around when that happens, you know? We were scared. We didn’t feel safe, and we’re - well, we’re equipped to handle almost anything. But that and him, that’s above even our paygrade. Plus, Nate has walked out before, and he’s always been fine.”

Jonathan dared one glance up at Stephanie and winced. That was not the correct thing to say.

“I’m sorry, you think he’s fine? Sure, he hallucinates God knows what and suffers extreme emotional and physical turmoil because of it, a condition that has rapidly and violently escalated over a very short period of time, but yeah, I’m sure he’s ‘fine’ on his own.” She scoffed and pressed her hands to either side of her head. “No wonder he’s so screwed up.”

Jonathan watched her now, intrigued. “What are you, a doctor or something?”

“Pharmacist,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t think it takes a doctor to know when someone is suffering. And you’d think any decent person would be willing to help him.”

“You’re right.” Jonathan turned his attention back to the laptop. “But compassion has to end when you feel like your life is in danger, not to mention that not many people in our field have the luxury of being ‘decent,’ as you so kindly put it.”

“Your field?” Stephanie asked.

But Jonathan deflected by sliding a pair of headphones on and listening to the voicemail through his filter. Steph glanced around, once again left to wait for the mystery to be cracked by someone else.

After a moment, Jonathan spoke up. “There’s definitely something there. Man, this guy has the ear of a god. I probably wouldn’t have picked that up if I didn’t know what I was looking for.”

Steph leaned closer, wishing she could hear it for herself. “Do you know what it is?”

“No, it’ll probably take some fine tuning to get it really clear.”

“Which means…”

He took the headphones off with a grin. “I’ll do it, but I’ll need a few hours at least. In the meantime, you should head home. Get some rest if you can, and I’ll call you when I have more to offer you.” He shrugged, glancing back at the screen. “It’s not like I’ve got anything more exciting going on right now.”

Stephanie hugged him around the shoulders then, a little overwhelmed by the thought of having a real, concrete clue towards finding her husband. “Thank you!” Then, realizing how awkward it must be, she pulled back. And maybe there was just a hint of blush in Jonathan’s cheeks, not that he gave her long to see it before turning away again. She pointed to her phone instead. “Oh, um, can I-?”

“Of course!” Jonathan nodded. “Actually, let me copy this first.” Once he did, he unplugged the phone and handed it back to her.

Steph clutched the phone to her chest. “Really, thank you. You’ve actually been the most helpful person so far.” She almost regretted grilling him about Nate, almost. Maybe his bandmates could’ve done more to help him, but Steph couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still missing a large part of the story. There was something else that made Jonathan and the others so skittish of Nate and his hallucinations.

Jonathan stood then, heading towards the door. “You know, he’s a pain, but Nate can hold his own. I’ve seen him do it, and honestly, as much as he puts up a front, he never stopped caring about Matthew. So, if anyone can find him...” He looked back to Stephanie, that same guilt in his eyes. He really did want to help Nate or at least hoped that someone could. “Just - don’t write him off too quickly.”

“I’ll trust you on that, but we really should get home before we both pass out.”

“Definitely.” He glanced out the window in the RV door and hissed. “Crap!” Jonathan threw the door open, and both he and Stephanie tumbled out as Nate dropped his backpack to the concrete and threw himself at Chuck.

Jonathan grabbed Nate from behind, pinning his arms down to his sides and crushing Nate to his chest. “What’s going on here?”

“You got something to say, you cowards, you can say it to my face! Say it to my face!” Nate struggled against Jonathan’s hold, and nearly broke free before Jonathan wrapped his arms around him again and practically threw Nate behind him.

On the RV steps, Steph watched with wide eyes.

“Hey, hey! Nate, enough! That’s enough!” Jonathan pushed him back another step, trying to break Nate’s eye-contact with Chuck, trying to get him to snap out of whatever spell he was under.

Stephanie stayed where she was near the doorway of the RV, hesitant to get anywhere near Nate when he looked that angry, like he might actually kill someone. “Nate, please, this isn’t going to help!”

As Nate caught his breath, he glared at Chuck and Reggie over Jonathan’s shoulder. “Hey, bite me! Both of you! The next time you throw yourselves into the fire, don’t expect me to jump in after to save you!”

Chuck snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Yeah, like we’d call a Schizo like you to come help us!”

“Oh, that’s right! We forgot!” Reggie looked from Chuck to Nate, dark glee flickering in his eyes. They’d waited a long time to tear into their so-called friend. “Just had a tea party with your imaginary friends, Nate! They said to tell you that your Mommy misses you!”

Wordless and with monstrous hate in his eyes, Nate charged them again, but Jonathan caught him in time. But this was a losing battle, and he knew it. Nate wasn’t going to stand by and let them say those things, and nothing was going to get them to shut up now. Any semblance of loyalty they had as a group was out the window. All the old grievances were scrabbling to the surface like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

They hurled swears and threats and insults back and forth, and Jonathan - accepting the fact that he would have bruised ribs in the morning from Nate’s ferocious elbows with a sigh - wrapped his arms tighter around Nate to hold him back before he did something he regretted.

“What is wrong with you people?” Stephanie screamed at them, and now she didn’t care what Nate looked like or what he might do. Everything slowed and she rushed to his side and put a hand on his arm, glaring fire and brimstone at Chuck and Reggie. “You’re both just bullies, you know that? Why don’t you crawl in a hole? Or better yet, go apologize to your mothers for growing up like you did! Jerks.”

Nate’s gaze finally moved from the guys to Stephanie. There she was, her head at the level of Reggie’s elbow but with enough spite to maybe take them both down anyway, and she would do it for him, even after all the crap he’d put her through. Because, what, he was Matt’s step-brother? Because he was still maybe the only person who could find Matt?

Either way, it was cold water over the coals in his chest, an open window to clear out the smoke in his head left by those visions. As he tried to suck in some deep breaths, he realized Jonathan’s arms were still around him, the older bassist towering over him from behind, and blushing, Nate tapped one arm, once, twice. He was out, and Jonathan hesitantly released him.

“He’s the walking, talking powder keg that started all of this,” Chuck practically whined when he saw that Jonathan was just going to let Nate go.

“I don’t care who started it! It’s over now as far as I’m concerned!” Jonathan calmed himself as much as he could manage, took Nate’s sunglasses from his pocket, and handed them back to him. Nate flinched slightly when the hand appeared, eyes not leaving the pavement beneath his sneakers for longer than a fleeting glance. Jonathan spoke to him softly, “I think you should go.”

Snatching his sunglasses back and putting them on, Nate grabbed his backpack from the ground. “Yeah, sure.” Then with Stephanie close at his side, he headed back for his car. “Would hate to get my germs all over you two saints.”

Jonathan snagged Stephanie as she passed him and whispered to her. “Be careful, Steph. With everything, okay?”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Stephanie cast one last furious glare at the other two and shrugged away from Jonathan. “You take care, too. Know what they say about the company you keep...” Then she followed Nate back to the Firebird, stopping next to him on the driver’s side as he fumbled awkwardly with the keys, his hands still shaking. Either from the visions or the near fight, she couldn’t tell, but it sure did stab at her chest. She inched closer and quietly asked, “Are you good to drive?”

Nate pressed the pad of his thumb into the teeth of the key, glared down at the ground between his feet, and took a deep breath before relenting. He dropped the key ring into her hand, still not able to meet her eyes. She took his backpack from his shoulder, too, and set it in the backseat before turning back to him. “Ready to go?”

One swift nod and he walked around to the other side of the car to swing himself inside. Once the engine had started growling a humming white noise in his head, once they were down the road a few miles in the peace and quiet of the desert, once the weight on his chest lifted just enough so he felt like he could breathe again, he whispered a small, “Thanks.”

And Stephanie smiled to herself, keeping her eyes on the road. But soon her smile soured, as reality set back in again. They were still no closer to finding Matt, even after all of that.

“How do you know?” She cleared her throat like something was caught in it, but Nate still wouldn’t look at her, retreating far behind his sunglasses and his brooding attitude, his mask. “How do you know that he’s still alive?” A few minutes passed. He was blatantly ignoring her now, but she knew this game, had played it with Matthew quite a few times.

Her hands tightened on the cracked leather steering wheel, forcing herself to continue calmly and patiently, neither of which she was actually feeling. “He’s been missing for a week, at the hands of what you’ve described as a serial killer who targets children, whom you and Matt already tried to kill once. We don’t know where they are, so we have no way of predicting what he’s doing to him. So, how do you know?” She gave him one sideways glance to find that he was finally looking back at her.

Still, it took him a few moments to collect his thoughts from where they’d splattered all over the inside of his skull. When he did speak up, he’d never sounded so empty before, a hollow pit with walls of iron.“Because I know Afton, better than pretty much anyone alive. He’s... I know his MO. It’s very, very… specific, and it doesn’t really require... killing exactly.” He plucked at a ripped patch in his jeans when she turned to look at him again. “Look, I can’t explain it, and I’m sorry, I wish I could, I wish I could tell you how I know but…”

Stephanie drew in a breath that raised her shoulders up beside her ears, and it looked like steam might blow out her nostrils at any moment. “If you say you’re trying to protect me from the truth, so help me God…” She paused as Nate flinched slightly and realization set in. “Wait, is that - is that really what you’re about to say? What do you take me for? Honestly!” She was looking at him now, looking at him and trying to drill a hole through his forehead with her mind, and definitely not watching the road.

Nate reached over and corrected her steering before they ended up in a ditch. Then he replied simply, “It has nothing to do with you if that helps.”

“No! As a matter of fact, it does not!” She pulled over onto the shoulder of the road then, and Nate couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not. On one hand, the chances of her crashing his car were significantly less, but on the other hand, the chances of her wrecking him personally were growing rapidly. “I’m done playing games, Nate. Tell me what is going on. Tell me what happened between you and Matthew and this Afton guy. Tell me how you know Matthew isn’t dead! Tell me, please!”

In truest, little brother form, Nate pouted for a moment. He should wait, let Matt tell her everything, let him decide what he wanted his wife to know about him. That shouldn’t be Nate’s decision to make, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going like this. He wasn’t sure how much longer Stephanie would go before she really did call the cops, or worse, the nice men in the white coats.

So, he told her as much as he dared. “Afton... he tortures them, his victims.” Not a lie, not entirely the truth either, he could toe this line if he needed to. “He tortures them, and it takes nine days for them to die.” Nate only knew the full timeline of one case for sure, and Afton spent nine days with that victim at least. So maybe it was enough to convince Stephanie.

“How is it so specific?” she asked.

“Who knows? The guy is a psychopath - literally!” Nate scrubbed his fingers through his hair again, swept it back from his face as he tried to think. “It's just his process. That’s how it works. He’s been doing it the same way since I was six, and he was doing it the same way when I was sixteen, and I am positive he’s doing the same thing now with Matt.” Nate felt bile rising in his throat. Between learning Matt had gone missing, taking a trip to Freddy’s, and nearly getting into a fight with his bandmates, Nate felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He was pretty sure he looked like it, too.

“You saw the articles Matt had collected.” He swallowed and coiled one finger inside the bracelet on his wrist. “Most of them talked about missing kids, not murdered ones, because Afton used to take them, seal them into the backroom only employees knew about, and torture them for nine days, and then they would die. No one knew about the storage room, so the bodies would never be found.”

Stephanie remembered that room, walled up and long-forgotten, and wondered just how many children had died there at the hands of this monster. Her own stomach churned with the thought of her husband in those same hands. If Nate was right - and she still wasn’t convinced he was - Matthew didn’t have a lot of time left. “And how,” she asked so softly she could barely hear herself, “do you know all of this?”

Nate let his head hit the seat. “Call it the family obsession.”

“A family that is obsessed with killing serial killers?” she scoffed. “You know that sounds crazy right? The kind of crazy I should call the cops on, crazy?” Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but Stephanie thought she saw Nate flinch again. His certainly wasn’t the most legal of family hobbies. And on top of that, he did seem to have a questionable relationship with his own sanity, so she felt she had every right to ask, “How do I know you’re not as bad as Afton? How do I know you’re not going to hurt me or Matt?”

Nate rubbed at the bracelet on his wrist again, faded with age, frayed in places, but it was his totem, his one thing to hold onto. And now even it didn’t hold comfort for him. “The truly ironic thing is that right now, it really doesn’t matter, does it?” He turned his head towards her, moved his sunglasses on top of his head so she could see his eyes, and shrugged his tired, weary shoulders.

God, she never noticed how exhausted he looked.

“If you want me to stay away from you, fine, I can. I’ll find Matt on my own. Or, you can help, if that makes you feel better. But once this is over, you and Matt will go back to your ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ life, and this will all be nothing more than a nightmare, just like you said.” Nate set his jaw. “Either way, you’ll have your husband back, and I’ll be out of your hair. Psycho, Schizo, asshole, whatever I am - I’ll be somebody else’s problem.”

Stephanie searched in his eyes for something, even though she didn’t know what exactly. But Nate could tell she was looking, only she didn’t seem to find whatever it was, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Mostly he just felt like dried gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe, and he wished life would scrape him off and toss him in the trash rather than keep stepping on him already.

Grumbling to herself, still not sure about Nate or child murderers or any of it, Steph pulled back onto the road. After she’d gotten up to speed again, she commenced drumming her fingers on the wheel. “I just want him home,” Steph finally croaked. Out of all the things swirling in her mind, that one felt the most true.

“I know.” Nate dropped his sunglasses back into place, pressing himself deeper into the leather seat as if maybe he could just disappear into it. His eyes wandered back to the road, safer territory than his sister-in-law’s face.

Stephanie chewed the corner of her lip in thought. “The thing I still don’t get is how Matthew…”

“Look out!” Nate pointed to something in the road, only a flicker of light and movement, as Stephanie swerved to miss it. The car spun off the road, hit the shallow ditch on the side, and swerved to a stop in a cloud of orange dust and tiny pebbles that skittered over the windshield.

Nate spun in his seat, tore off his sunglasses, and stared back through the back window and the dust to the road as Stephanie slowly and painfully uncurled her stone-stiff fingers from the wheel.

“Oh my God. Wh-what…?” her trembling voice tried to ask.

Nate kicked his door open.

He ran back onto the road, out of the cloud of dust, and it was there. Right where it had been a moment before, staring at him. Nate could barely breathe, like he was shoved into a small space, unable to move or cry for help. Reality slipped away from him, right through his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Stephanie climbed out after him, her whole body trembling from the near-miss. “What did you see?”

Then she stopped short, the toes of her sneakers just brushing the pavement, and she stared, not at the thing they almost hit, but at Nate. Because even though he stood alone in the middle of the highway, his eyes were fixed to a point just ahead of him. And there was fear written across his face as plain as the sun over their heads beating down on them.

Not just the fear she’d seen when he’d looked up at the decaying structure of Freddy Fazbear’s, not even the terror in his eyes when those visions had knocked him to his knees back at the RV. This was something different, something worse, and to Nate at least, something very, very real. “Nate? What is it? Nate!”

Her voice didn’t reach his ears. Nate wasn’t exactly on that road or even in that moment anymore. He was caught somewhere between future and memory, where the only sound that he could hear were the gasping, wheezing breaths of his brother. Matthew’s image flickered like an old film that hadn’t been threaded quite right. His head hung limp to one side, but life, dim but present, burned in his eyes.

And they slowly rose to meet Nate’s gaze, like Matthew could see him, too. Nate backpedaled, nearly crashing into Stephanie. Beneath the desert sun, his skin grew as cold as a corpse as Matt flickered ever closer. He stumbled, he ran, but Matt was everywhere, everywhere that he looked, until Nate’s palms met the barely-real hood of his car. Nate turned, and Matt loomed over him, pressing Nate’s back against the metal of the Firebird.

Black ooze dribbled from his nose and the corners of his mouth until it dripped from his chin onto Nate’s shirt. His mouth spasmed, like he was gasping for air, like he was trying to form words. But he couldn’t. The black liquid bubbled in his throat, sprayed over Nate’s face as Matthew coughed.

Nate couldn’t tear his eyes away as he shook in frozen terror. “Matt?”

His brother leaned closer and closer until his cold, blue lips were hovering at Nate’s ear. “Lock…” Then a breath, horrible and wet, before he spoke again, softer and more strangled so that Nate could only make out the first part of the word “Wi-”

A pair of hands broke through the hallucination, a voice drowned out Matt’s final whisper. The ghostly figure disappeared, even as Nate tried to catch him. His hands caught Stephanie’s shirt instead.

“Nate!” Steph shook him, grabbed him by both shoulders and shook until his eyes stopped staring just above her head. “Breathe, Nate! You’re not breathing!” She was crying, screaming at him, and Nate stared into her eyes, trying to understand why. Stephanie could only stare back, could only try to catch him as Nate’s eyes rolled back in his head and his knees gave out under his weight.

They crashed into the dirt together as she screamed, desperate with terror, “Nate! Nate!”


End file.
